How to Repair a Relationship

Great once you’re committed or married. Try this: you highlight your “yes” lines in yellow. Your partner highlights theirs in blue. The parts that turn green are the shared focus. Start there. Each week, pick one shared need, plan one small action, do it, and review on Sunday. Simple. Boring. Effective—like flossing, but for trust. It does help build a better connection, but mutual effort is required.

Quick reality check:
Books don’t fix everything. They give you tools, perspective and understanding. Without tools, the odds of drift—or divorce—go up. With tools, you at least have a map. I prefer a map. My “winging it” phase cost me two toasters and a few houseplants. Are you still winging it?

Personality, red flags, and signs to walk away from a relationship:
Pay attention to people’s wiring. Some things can be learned. Some can’t. Honesty and integrity sit in the “can’t” bucket. You either have them or you don’t. When you see someone’s true colors, don’t try to repaint them. I tried. The paint peeled in a week. Move on. The faster you move on, the faster you meet someone with good colors inside.

A quick word on narcissists. Common signs: it’s always about them, they lie like it’s breathing (and sometimes believe their own lies), and they can be ice-cold when you need warmth. This often starts as early trauma, which means real therapy is needed—like, years. Talking about the past isn’t the same as doing the work. Avoid dating a narcissist. Life is short. If you’re married to one, I’m sorry. Perhaps you should stay and figure this out. Get a counselor or two. However, if you are not married, run. No wait, that might be my inside voice getting out again… Run fast.

Hard question: are they cheating now, or is this the first time you noticed it? Pick your path to adventure. Hurt people, hurt people. You have to decide fast if you want to sign up for that climb. Caution: not everyone you don’t like is a narcissist. Now that you can spot a few patterns, don’t slap the label on every rough day. Think of it like church folks and demons—you don’t need to rebuke every doorknob that won’t open. Maybe it’s just locked. Check first. If you truly think you’re in it with a narcissist, a good resource is There’s a Hole in My Love Cup by Sven Erlandson (Badass Counseling podcast, also on Tik & YT, etc.). Down‑to‑earth and direct.

A rule that helped when life got busy:

The “Fuck First Rule.” Yes, that’s the name. With one date night a week (or less), dinner talks can nuke the mood, and late nights can end with “too tired.” So we flipped the order. If we both want intimacy, we choose it first—with consent, care, and zero pressure. Then we go to dinner hungry and relaxed. Less stress. Better night. Try it if it fits your values and your season. If not, cool. Eat the breadsticks in peace.

A few small things that kept us steady

• Clear asks beat hints. One clean line: “Can we take a no‑phone walk after dinner?” My old method was sighing louder. Shockingly, it did not work.

• Weekly relationship check-in. One hour for calendar, chores, money, and fun. One list. One promise each. Fewer landmines.

• Two‑minute repair. If you snap, repair fast: “That was sharp. I’m sorry. Can we start over?” Pride is expensive. Repairs are cheap.

• Trade‑ups. If you cut a habit, add a tiny good one. Ten minutes of walking beats ten minutes of doom scroll. Ask my screen‑time report. It’s a bully.

If you want the polished version, this isn’t it. If you want something that holds under pressure, you’re welcome.

Near the bottom of every relationship fight, there’s a quiet ache: do you want me, still? For us, one of the most practical answers came from Kevin Leman’s book Sheet Music: Uncovering the Secrets of Sexual Intimacy in Marriage (see Amazon, Google Books, and Goodreads for the book info). Leman’s tone is frank and playful, but the core is simple: consistent, caring sexual connection matters. Not as pressure or performance, but as a rhythm that keeps the bond warm. He talks about communication, generosity, and making intimacy a normal, regular part of married life—not an event that requires candlelight and three hours of preparation. That framing helped us de-dramatize and de-shame the topic and actually do something about it.

A few things we practiced, in plain language:

We stopped outsourcing intimacy to perfect moments. Leman nudges couples toward everyday closeness—flirting in the kitchen, unhurried kisses, affectionate touch that isn’t always a prelude. We made a rule that affectionate touch is allowed to just be affectionate. Removing the “this has to go somewhere” pressure ironically made it go somewhere more often.

We treated frequency as connection, not a scoreboard. Leman emphasizes regularity, but we took it as a heuristic, not a hard number. We asked, “What cadence right now makes us both feel wanted and sane?” Sometimes that looked like planning—actually putting a window on the calendar and protecting it like a meeting we wouldn’t cancel. Other seasons, it was “micro-moments” that kept us tethered until we had more bandwidth. The point wasn’t the count; it was the message: I choose you, again, with my body too.

We talked like teammates. The old way: reading minds and keeping score. The new way: short, direct sentences. “What helps you feel pursued?” “What shuts you down?” “What should we try this week?” We borrowed Leman’s spirit of candid practicality and let the bedroom be a low-ego lab. No drama if something didn’t work, just adjust. Teammates tinker.

We widened the definition of intimacy. Leman is writing about sexual intimacy, yes, but we found that everything around sex matters just as much: sleep, stress, resentment levels, whether the kitchen feels like a war zone. We learned to clear small resentments quickly because they are intimacy killers. A fifteen-minute blitz of house reset did more for our desire than a hundred poetic texts. It’s not romantic to say “clean the counters,” but it’s deeply romantic to remove friction.

We made the pursuit mutual. Early on, we unconsciously assigned one pursuer and one pursued. That bred resentment. Now we both initiate, both plan, both send the “thinking of you” notes during the day. Leman’s playful, non-precious style gave us permission to make this fun and unpretentious. Desire likes oxygen and laughter.

None of this turned us into calendar bots or Hollywood characters. We still miss weeks. We still get in our heads. But embracing intimacy as a daily practice—approachable, frequent, generous—kept us close when life stacked pressure on pressure. If you want a place to start, start with one honest conversation this week about what cadence would feel kind to both of you, and agree to try it for a month. Then recalibrate together.

Repair is not a one-time event; it’s a lifestyle. How to Repair a Relationship and staying together when it’s hard are the same choice made a hundred small ways: name the impact, own your part, apologize with a plan, learn out loud, offer a bridge, and keep the daily pursuit alive—emotionally and physically. We didn’t save our relationship with a breakthrough. We saved it by showing up on ordinary days and doing the unglamorous work that keeps love warm. If you’re still both here, you’ve got what you need. Start small. Repair early. Stay close.

On A Personal Note:

Having a perfect partner is great and clearly that would be ideal for most non-married folks. However, if you’re reading this article or many of the books mentioned here, then chances are you are already in a relationship or marriage that is in trouble.

You can’t & shouldn’t throw it all away and start over. That’s cheap, easy and shows your cheap character if you choose that path. Your future partner will notice that too. Not just that you’re divorced but that you chose to throw in the towel quickly without making much effort, etc.

I mention this because I don’t want you to get discouraged if you find that your love language is not the same as your spouses. While it’s not ideal, it’s actually the most common scenario. Most of us figured out the love languages after choosing who we’d marry.

The same is true for How We Love. In that book, they mention toxic combinations. I highly recommend that you recognize your personality/love style and that of others. I highly recommend that you don’t get into a relationship with someone who would make a toxic combination with you. However, if you are already married to someone who isn’t your ideal fit, that’s ok too. We’re not the ideal fit for each other either. You just have more work ahead of you, that’s all. - You know the phrase, “knowing is half the battle”? You’re welcome.